


Call at a Church

by TheFlamingDragonfly



Category: Emergency!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlamingDragonfly/pseuds/TheFlamingDragonfly
Summary: A call goes terribly wrong. Johnny has some new issues and struggles to deal with them.





	1. Chapter 1

_A different kind of story for me. I tried to keep this as true to the series as possible while exploring some aspects of Johnny that were never really covered during the show._

As the squad rushed to the scene of the latest call, Johnny tried to remember if they had ever been called to a church. It seemed that he could recall once, maybe a year or so ago, when an older man had developed chest pains during a service. He couldn't remember the outcome, however.

He turned to Roy. "Roy, do you remember a call to a church about a year ago? A man with chest pains?"

Roy glanced over at his partner. "No. Why?"

Johnny shrugged. "Just wondering. I can't remember how it turned out."

"Well, let's just hope that this call turns out okay."

"Yeah." Johnny scanned the buildings. "Should be right up here."

Sure enough, a modest, brick church with an overly large steeple appeared in the middle of a patchy lawn. Since it was a Monday morning, the parking lot was empty except for two cars. Roy parked the squad next to them and joined John in fetching the needed gear.

The call had indicated a possible drug overdose, and the men had all looked perplexed when the address was given as First Baptist Church. The paramedics knew that they'd be busy explaining a drug overdose at a church when they got back to the station.

Roy, carrying the biophone, led the way to the door that was situated closest to the parked car. Johnny knocked.

The door opened almost immediately, and an older woman ushered them inside. "Thank goodness you're here!" she exclaimed. "The pastor wanted me to take you to him." She turned and led the way down a long hall that housed rooms on both sides before stopping before a closed door.

"Wait here," the woman instructed. "I'll get the pastor." She slipped through the door.

A moment later the door once again opened, and the woman emerged followed by a middle-aged, dark-haired man. He held out his hand. "Hello, I'm Angelo Aducci. I'm glad you got here so quickly."

First Roy and then John shook the hand of the man. "What's the problem?" Roy asked.

Aducci pressed his lips together. "It's a young woman. I've been counseling her. She's…had some difficulties. I don't believe she'd hurt herself, but I thought…" The pastor's voice trailed off, as though not wanting to admit that he might be wrong. "I think she took something. Drugs. She's very agitated."

"Where is she now?" Roy questioned.

Aducci turned and nodded toward the door he had just come through. "She's in the sanctuary. That's why I wanted you to meet me out here, so we don't scare her. She's sitting toward the rear of the room. I'll go in first and talk to her…let her know that you're here."

The older man pushed the door, and before it swung shut the paramedics got a glimpse of rows of empty pews and stained glass windows.

Johnny glanced at Roy. "Wonder what she took?"

"No telling. I just hope we're in time."

They waited, and just when John was about to push his way through the door it opened and Aducci gestured for them to come in.

They walked quickly down the middle aisle, toward the back doors. Aducci stopped at the last pew and stepped aside.

A girl in her late teens huddled against the wall, her hands and legs visibly trembling. At the sight of the paramedics, she jumped to her feet.

"Stay away from me!" she shrieked. "Stay away!"

Aducci placed his hands on the back of the pew and leaned toward her. "Laura, these men are here to help you. We all want to help you."

The pastor's words seemed to have a calming effect on the girl, for she sank back into the pew. Johnny cautiously sat on the pew and slid toward her.

"Laura? I'm Johnny and this is my partner, Roy. We're paramedics and we just want to help you."

Laura eyed him warily. "Who called you?" she demanded.

Aducci spoke up. "I did, Laura. I want to help you, so I called in someone who can take care of you."

"Laura," Johnny said, "what did you take?"

The girl shrank into the wall. "What do you want? I don't know you."

"I'm a paramedic," Johnny repeated calmly. "I want to help you, but I need to know what you took. Can you tell me?"

Laura glanced up at Aducci. "Nothing…I…I didn't take anything. I don't do stuff like that."

John pressed on as Roy unobtrusively set up the biophone. "Did you take pills, Laura? Speed?"

"I told you," Laura said, tears beginning to slip from her eyes, "I don't do stuff like that."

"How many did you take?" Johnny asked, his voice just above a whisper.

The girl wiped her cheeks, once again looking up at Aducci. "I just wanted somebody to pay attention," she said. "They didn't have to do that to me. And when I tried to get them to listen, they just ignored me. I just wanted them to see."

John had managed to move close enough to reach the girl. "Laura, I'm going to take your pulse, okay?" He gingerly took her wrist, then managed to monitor both his watch and the girl for any negative reaction.

"I've got Rampart on the line," Roy said quietly.

John nodded. "Pulse 140. Laura, I'm going to take your blood pressure now, okay?"

"I just wanted them to see," the girl said again. She drew her arm away. "Don't touch me!"

Johnny immediately withdrew. "Laura, it's okay. We're here to help you."

Laura stood up. "Don't you understand?" she cried, thrusting her hand into her pocket. "No one is listening to me!" she screamed, pulling an object from her pocket.

"She's got a gun!" John shouted.

Everyone stared at the gun in Laura's hand. Aducci stumbled back, falling into the pew. Roy started to get to his feet, then ducked, his hand reaching for the handi-talkie. Johnny flung himself to one side, nearly lost his balance, then reached up and grabbed Laura's wrist. The girl wrenched back, almost pulling away from John, but the paramedic's superior strength and weight brought her down into the pew. Together they wrestled for the gun, both driven by desperation.

The inevitable retort of the gun shattered more than a stained-glass window; it also destroyed the stunned silence of the participants. Johnny shouted at Laura, Roy barked into the handi-talkie, and Angelo Aducci, still huddled on the pew, called on God. Roy dropped the handi-talkie and leaped into the fray, but just as he tried to reach the gun, it once again discharged.

Aducci's quavering voice broke into a cry. Roy shrank into himself, flinching as the gun retorted once more. And Johnny sank to the floor, his eyes wide and stunned, his blue shirt suddenly plastered with his own blood.

Absolute shock. He saw the ceiling swirling madly, pulsing in time to the pain that he felt somewhere…someplace on his body. Strange sounds found him, whimpers really, and for a moment he actually thought that they were coming from his own throat. But that couldn't be. It didn't make sense. None of it did.

A sudden retort startled him. Another gunshot? He couldn't be sure. He wasn't sure of anything.

He floated, set back down, lifted again. He closed his eyes. Come with me…come with me.

Walking…floating.

Johnny!

Wings. Whirring, whistling. I hear you.

Johnny!

Where are you? I don't see you…I don't see anything…

Coldness, wet and biting, slithered through him. Coldness and darkness. He blinked, harder and harder, but nothing would materialize before him. Nothing but an emptiness that voided everything that he thought he understood.

The darkness descended, heavy and cold, suffocating him. He struggled somewhere, but his attempts were futile. Slowly, with absolute certainty, he watched death approach.

No! I don't want to go!

Grasping, clawing, fighting to escape the smothering specter. Away from it. But it kept him, refusing to free him from the darkness. He flailed, cried, but still it held him.

And then a voice came.

God is with you.

Please help me! It's got me! I don't want to go!

I know. God is with you.

It's trying to take me! I'm scared!

I know. God is with you, son.

I don't want to die.

It's all right. Just know that God is with you.

Somehow the darkness lightened. Colors swirled, danced, then took shape. A figure holding a lamb…cradling the small animal…protecting it. He stared at the picture. Arms cradling the lamb. Protecting it. Carrying it. The picture moved into him, merging with long forgotten memories. Warmth…love…peace. God is with me.


	2. Chapter 2

Four months later…

Johnny stared into the sink. "Jesus."

"What?"

Johnny started at Mike's voice. "Look."

"At what?"

Johnny glared at him. "The potato!"

Mike peered into the sink. "Okay. Now what?"

"Oh, never mind!" Johnny snapped, snatching up the potato and walking away. "Roy, look at this."

Roy looked up at his partner and waited expectantly. "Well?"

Johnny gestured at the table. "Look. What do you see?"

Roy complied. "A potato," he deadpanned. Chet, seated on the couch with Henry, snickered.

"I know it's a potato," Johnny exclaimed. "Everybody knows it's a potato. You have to use your imagination. Now look at it and tell me who it reminds you of."

Roy once again stared at the tuber. He studied it for perhaps ten seconds before straightening.

"Johnny, I don't know what you want me to see. Who is it?"

"Jesus."

Roy looked again. "I don't see it."

"Sure you do. Just keep looking."

The senior paramedic leaned closer over the potato. Johnny hovered over his shoulder, also staring at the vegetable.

Roy sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I still don't see it," he stated, folding his arms.

Johnny gestured at the potato. "You're just not trying hard enough, Roy! Marco sees it! Don't you, Marco?"

The fireman swallowed hard. "Uh, well, maybe, uh, maybe you could say that it looks like Jesus."

"So why does it have to be Jesus?" Chet inquired from the couch. "I mean, why not Moses?"

"Or Noah?" Mike supplied.

Johnny picked up the potato and glared at both men in turn. "It can't be Moses or Noah," he informed them, "because it's Jesus. Anyone with any sense could see that this must be Jesus. I mean, look at the arms. They're spread out. Moses didn't spread his arms."

"How do you know?" Cap asked, looking up from the newspaper that he had stopped trying to read.

"Yeah, Gage, how do you know what Moses did with his arms?" Chet asked. "What about when he received the Ten Commandments? He must've reached for them."

"Chet…shut up!" Johnny thrust the potato at Roy. "Look. See how it has arms? And this," he went on, pointing to a knob at the top of the potato, "this could be the head."

Roy, desperately wishing to get out of the conversation, pushed his chair back and stood up. "If you want to believe it's Jesus, then it's Jesus. To me, it's a potato that we were going to have for dinner until you went a little crazy."

"You just don't know how to look!" John shot back, cradling the potato in his hand. "You're too…close-minded!"

"Well, I'm too hungry," Cap broke in, his crossed arms indicating his patience level as being at a dangerously low level, "so how about we stop gabbing about a potato that may or may not look like Jesus and get dinner started?"

The men scrambled to get the table cleared and set, and Johnny, with a properly wounded expression, disappeared with the potato.

After dinner Johnny retreated to his bunk, where he sat cross-legged and obviously deep in thought. Roy nearly reached John's side before being noticed.

"If you've come in here to make fun of me, you might as well save your breath," Johnny stated.

Roy raised his hands. "I'm not here to make fun of you, and I wasn't earlier, either."

Johnny's expression indicated his disbelief. "So what do you want?"

Roy sat on his own bunk. "You've been pretty touchy today. Anything you want to talk about?"

"I haven't been touchy. It's you guys…can't even let a guy have an opinion on something."

Roy's mouth twitched. "Johnny, it's a potato."

"See? That's what I mean!"

"I'm not following you," Roy replied.

"Oh, never mind!" Johnny snapped, jumping from his bed. "Just never mind!"

Roy sat still, totally perplexed.

Johnny abruptly turned back toward Roy. "You wanna know what's bothering me?" he asked.

"That would be nice."

"That potato. I know it's a potato, but what if…what if it's meant to be something more?"

"You mean like a sign?" Roy tried.

Johnny pointed at Roy. "Exactly! A sign! Maybe even a warning that we need to pay attention to."

The whistled strains of The Twilight Zone theme stopped the conversation cold. Johnny folded his arms and glared at Chet, who innocently stepped between the paramedics, his lips pursed in an off key attempt at humor. Roy rolled his eyes and waited for the fireworks.

"Chet, you are so…juvenile!" Johnny sputtered. "You're just unbelievable!"

"I know," Chet replied, grinning. "That's my charm."

Not saying anything further but obviously fuming, Johnny stormed from the room.

Roy stopped Chet, who had been about to follow. "Chet, lay off Johnny, okay?"

"What's the deal?"

"He's real touchy about that potato. I don't know exactly why, but I think it'd be best if you left him alone about it."

"Aw, Roy, you take all the fun out of life," Chet whined as he left the room.

"That's my job," Roy called after him.

The shift ended without any more mention of the potato, and Johnny fervently hoped that Chet and the others would forget about it. Unfortunately, the subject came up almost immediately after the next shift started.

Johnny stood in front of the open hood of the squad, intending to search for some repair that would keep him busy and away from teasing coworkers.

His inspection was short-lived, for Chet sauntered over to the squad and stood next to Johnny.

"So, John, where is it?"

Johnny eyed Chet suspiciously. "Where is what?" he asked.

"Your holy relic? I wanted to touch it for good luck."

Johnny's mouth dropped open, but only random sputtering syllables emerged.

"Well, come on, John!" Chet pressed. "You can't keep it all to yourself, now! That wouldn't be fair."

"Chet!"

The fireman darted away from Johnny. "I know, you've got it under your pillow," he called, dashing into the locker room, Johnny right behind him.

Chet grabbed the pillow from John's bunk. "Nope, not there."

"Chet, stop it!" Johnny yelled.

"Well, maybe it's in your locker," Chet replied.

Johnny paled. "Stay outta my locker!" he warned, grasping Chet's arm.

"Why? Is that where your holy potato is hidden?"

"Just stay out of it!"

Chet faked a run to the left, causing Johnny to trip over the bench. The fireman then sprang to the paramedic's locker and pulled it open.

Uproarious laughter reached Roy as he closed the refrigerator. A second later Chet burst into the day room.

"Roy! Roy, you won't believe it, but your partner has a shrine for his potato!"

Johnny, close on Chet's heels, appeared about to lose it with the shorter man. "Chet, I'm telling you for the last time, leave me alone about it!"

Chet choked over his laughter. "You oughta see it, Roy! He's got it propped up on a piece of red cloth! I think you need to check him over. He must have some brain damage or something!"

Roy quickly stepped between the two men. "Okay, okay, the joke's over. Johnny, why don't we go check for that oil leak that B shift mentioned?"

Johnny seemed to be genuinely angry but he finally followed Roy into the apparatus bay, where he was kept busy until the first call came a quarter of an hour later.

For once, the men were allowed an uninterrupted meal. Johnny ate with relish, seemingly over his anger at Chet. Roy watched him closely, however, not at all sure that the issue was over.

It wasn't. Chet made some silly comment about the French fries they were eating, Roy wasn't even sure exactly what, but it rubbed Johnny the wrong way. The two immediately fell back into their squabble, were finally shushed by an ill-tempered Cap, and Johnny retreated into the locker room.

Cap turned to Roy. "Just what is his deal?" he asked bluntly.

Roy sighed. "I don't know. He's been like this ever since he found that potato."

"Well, has he talked about it at all?" Cap pressed.

"Not really. Someone keeps interrupting us," Roy replied, looking significantly at Chet.

"He's really sensitive about that potato," Marco said helpfully.

"He's got something going on, that's for sure," Roy said. "Listen, guys, let's lay off of Johnny for awhile, okay? At least until I can figure out what's up with him. Believe me, he'll tell me eventually. He always does."

Cap clapped his hands together. "Okay, sounds good. Until Roy tells us otherwise, we don't mention Gage's holy potato."

The men laughed, then went about their various chores.

The next shift started badly. Johnny came into the station anxious and short-tempered. Two or three times he appeared about to launch into a heart-to-heart with Roy, but each time the appearance of Chet or something else would stop him. Roy tried to be patient, but the situation was beginning to wear on his nerves.

Johnny rubbed the windshield of the squad, then paused and glanced over at his partner.

"Roy…?"

"Yeah?"

"Nothing."

The senior paramedic finished polishing his side of the windshield and set the cloth down. "Johnny, just say what you want to say. You've started to tell me about a dozen times this morning. Just say it!"

Johnny continued to wipe the windshield. "It's nothing, really. I've just been thinking about something for awhile, and I…"

"Yes?" Roy prodded.

"Well…do you believe in God?" Johnny rubbed harder, seeming to concentrate on his job.

Roy smiled indulgently. "Is that all? Johnny, you've been moping around here afraid to ask me if I believe in God?" He couldn't stifle a chuckle.

John bridled. "If I had known you were gonna laugh at me, I never would've said anything!"

"I'm not laughing at you," Roy reassured him. "I'm just glad that you're finally talking about what's bothering you, that's all."

Johnny tossed his cloth down. "Well, are you gonna answer my question or not?" he demanded.

"Do I believe in God?" Roy pondered for a moment. "Well, I guess you could say that I do, although I'm not really religious. But, yeah, I believe that someone or something is up there." He studied his partner. "What about you? Do you believe in God?"

"Sure he does," Chet interrupted, appearing from behind the engine. "I mean, he's even got a potato that he says is God. Pretty strange, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you!" John replied hotly. "And I don't have a potato that I think is God. I said it looks like Jesus. There is a difference, for your information."

Chet spread out his hands. "Gage, it's a potato! A vegetable! French fries. Mashed potatoes. Hash browns. Baked—"

"Okay! Okay!" Johnny exclaimed. "I get the picture! You don't have to go on and on about it!"

"Who's going on and on?" Chet continued, wiping his hands on a cloth. "I'm not the one who has a shrine to a potato in my locker!"

John's face grew red. "Don't you have hose to hang or something?" he asked.

"What, and miss this stimulating conversation?" Chet replied. "Not on your life."

Roy opened his mouth to try to break up the feuding pair when the klaxons went off, saving him the effort.

Johnny sank into bed, bone-weary after the long fire. He and Roy had returned to the station alone, leaving the others to mop up at the scene. The fire had kept them busy for several hours, and although there had been no casualties, the paramedics had put in more than their fair share of work. Johnny had thought he would have fallen immediately to sleep, but instead he lay awake, unable to shake the questions that had become his new companions.

"Can't sleep?" Roy's groggy voice came from the bunk next to his.

"Naw. Thinking too much, I guess."

"What about?"

Johnny turned over to face Roy. "It's been four months."

Roy's brows knit for a moment, then cleared. "The shooting."

"I thought I'd put it all behind me. Maybe I did, for awhile." John paused, trying to speak the thoughts that plagued him. "It's kinda like it was worse because it happened in a church. I mean, a church is sacred, y'know? And some things just shouldn't happen in a church. It just isn't right."

"Well, I don't think that anyplace is good to get shot," Roy said.

"No, of course not. But don't you see, Roy, that it's almost worse in a church because…well, because that's a place for…God."

It was Roy's turn to roll over. "I didn't know you felt that way."

Johnny sighed. "Haven't you ever wondered about some of the situations we get into? The fires, the buildings that should've collapsed but didn't until we were out of them? And what about the people we've rescued who should've been dead, but who somehow hung on until we were able to get to them? Haven't you ever wondered about those things, Roy?"

"Well, I guess I do think about them sometimes, but I generally try not to." Roy smiled in the darkness. "Keeps me from getting spooked about how close it is sometimes."

"I think about them. Especially lately…since that shooting. I keep wondering why it all happens the way it does. I wonder if I've been missing something."

"Missing what?"

"Well…God."

"God?"

"I don't even know if I believe in God," Johnny confessed, gesturing in an attempt to lighten his words. "I mean, I don't really think about religion that much."

Roy glanced at him. "And…" he prodded.

"Well…" Johnny raised his hands. "I wonder if maybe…if maybe I need to."

"Johnny, I think that it's perfectly normal to have questions. To wonder about your place in the world, why you're here, who's running things. I mean, in our line of work, there are plenty of reasons to wonder about why things happen the way that they do."

Johnny was silent, obviously pondering Roy's words. He finally looked over at his partner.

"I know that I haven't said much about that day."

"Not really. I didn't push because I figured you didn't want to talk about it."

"Yeah." Johnny studied the floor. "I don't remember too much, but I do remember that I thought that I was gonna die. In fact, I was sure that I was a goner."

Roy nodded. "You came closer than I ever want to see again."

"When I was lying there, everything got dark, and I felt like everything was about to end. Roy, I was scared to death."

"I think we all were," Roy replied, trying to smile.

Johnny shook his head. "No, I mean literally scared to death. I think that I saw the other side."

Roy's eyebrows raised. "Uh, okay. You mean like the tunnel with the light at the end?"

"No, not exactly. What I saw was dark…distant. I can't really explain it, but I knew that I didn't want to go near it." John folded his arms. "I couldn't seem to stop myself from going, and I was scared out of my mind. Then I heard a voice."

"What kind of voice?"

Johnny smiled self-deprecatingly. "Well, I know now that it was the pastor, but at the time I thought it was an angel." He felt himself blush.

"Yeah, I think I remember the pastor talking to you. So you remember it, huh?"

"Yeah. Roy, his voice…his words got to me. I was so scared, but somehow his words helped me hang on."

"Brackett said it was a miracle that you didn't bleed out," Roy supplied. "I felt pretty helpless, knowing you were bleeding in your belly and there wasn't much I could do except get you to Rampart. And then waiting and wondering if Brackett would be able to get to the bullet. I sure don't want to go through that again."

"Roy, you said it was a miracle that I didn't bleed out. What if it was a miracle?"

"Johnny, it's a figure of speech. I meant—"

"No, listen. I've seen enough and heard enough, and I know you have, too. Some things just can't be explained."

"I just don't think much about it."

"I didn't, either, until I was shot in a church," Johnny said thoughtfully.


	3. Chapter 3

He stood in the doorway of the church, hesitant, as though a force held him at bay. The memory of what had transpired here, the horror, pushed at him, as did the knowledge that by walking into the building he would at last face the issue that he had avoided for so long. And both forces terrified him.

He drove into the church parking lot and drove to a spot close to the back door where he and Roy had entered so many weeks before. Getting out of the Rover, he walked to the door, then stopped.

"What am I doing here?" he asked himself out loud. "What am I gonna say?"

He stepped across the threshold. The air-conditioned interior sent shivers down his back. He wiped his mouth, then thrust his hands into his pockets. Listening, he heard the faint sound of a radio playing music. By the cadence he guessed it to be a contemporary Christian song. He noticed an office to his right, with an older woman seated at a typewriter. He tapped on the open door and the woman stopped typing.

"Hello!" she greeted. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah. I was wondering if the pastor was available." John suddenly felt embarrassed at not knowing the pastor's name.

"Well, I'm sure he's available, but just let me check." The woman picked up the phone receiver and dialed. "Angelo? Betty. There's someone here to see you. Yes. Okay." She hung up and beamed at John.

"You can go right back," she said.

"Is it—his office—I don't—"

"Second door on the right. You can't miss it. It says 'Pastor' on it!"

Johnny smiled back at her. "Right. Thanks."

The door became the center of his vision. As he stepped slowly down the hall, his eyes never left the door. The music grew louder as he walked. John surmised that Angelo was listening to the radio.

At last he reached the door. He stood before it, staring at the placard. He listened, trying to hear beyond the music, but he heard nothing. Lifting his hand, he curled his fingers to knock. Now or never. He rapped on the door twice.

"Come in."

The sound of the pastor's voice startled Johnny. Instantly he was taken back to the church sanctuary, and the girl, and the panic and blood and regret.

He grasped the knob, turned it, pushed the door, and slipped into the pastor's office.

Inside, the pastor sat at a desk covered with several open books and a notebook with nearly a page of writing. The office itself consisted of four or five bookshelves, numerous pictures of a smiling woman and two girls, and a framed, needle-point Bible verse. A couch sat along one wall, with a barstool opposite.

The pastor rose immediately, his hand extended. "Hello, John! I'm very happy to see you."

Johnny took his hand, even more embarrassed now that he knew that Aducci had remembered his name. "Thanks for seeing me. I know you're busy."

"Sit down," Aducci replied, turning off the radio, then coming around and taking a seat on a partially cleared corner of his desk. "Actually, I'm glad you came by. I tried to check up on your progress, but I wasn't able to get much information. Are you back to work?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah, uh, actually, I've been back for a couple of weeks."

Aducci smiled. "Well, that's great! I'm so glad that everything turned out all right for you. Our church set up a prayer ring for you after the shooting. It looks like our prayers were answered in a wonderful way." He sighed. "I still can't believe that Laura had a gun. She just wasn't the type…well, anyway, I was pretty shocked."

"Yeah." John fiddled with his hands, fervently wishing the small talk could continue. "It was a surprise to everybody, I think."

The older man folded his arms. "So what brings you by?" he asked.

Johnny felt his heart begin to race. "Well, uh, I guess I just wanted to let you know how I was doing," he began lamely, sure that the pastor could see directly into his mind. "After what happened and all, I just wanted to let you know that I was okay…" His voice trailed off.

Aducci smiled at him. "That's very nice of you, John," he said gently. "Was there anything else?"

Johnny clasped his hands together. "Uh, no, I just…well…" He lost his words, and felt his face grow hot.

The pastor slid from his desk, and pulling the barstool closer to John, sat on the cushioned seat. "Sometimes something happens and we get thrown for a loop," he began, his voice soft. "We begin to ask questions that perhaps we haven't asked for a long time, if ever. We begin to question ourselves, and we even question God."

John cleared his throat, glanced over Angelo's shoulder out the window, and then looked the pastor straight in the eye. "It's about God," he stated. "I need to talk about God."

There was a pause. Johnny found that his voice had left him, and he no longer could meet Aducci's eyes. Nervously, he fiddled with his fingers.

Aducci got off the barstool. "Can I offer you some coffee or a soda, John?"

"Yeah, soda's fine," Johnny replied quickly.

"Be right back." The pastor left, and John suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to flee.

I can't stay here. I don't know what to say to him, and it's too late to take it back. How can I talk about something that I don't understand? I need to leave now, while he's gone.

No, I can't leave. I came here to talk about God. I need to talk about God.

He sank back into the couch, resigned to his task. He would see it through.

"Laura had been a member of the church for three or four years," Pastor Aducci said as he handed Johnny a cold can of Pepsi. "In fact, I had watched her grow into a young woman. I had been aware of some trouble at home, but Laura didn't approach me until a month before the shooting."

Aducci's expression became pained. "I still ask myself how I could have missed the signs. Sometimes the role of pastor is far more complicated than I ever imagined it would be."

"Sounds like what I say about being a paramedic," Johnny replied with a small smile.

Aducci nodded. "We both deal with deep issues. And when we miss a signal, it can be devastating."

John took a deep swig of the Pepsi, then, realizing that Aducci was waiting for him to begin, took a deep breath and plunged.

"I don't remember much after being shot, but one thing has stayed in my mind. I keep hearing these same words, over and over again."

"What are they?"

"God is with you. God is with you." Johnny looked up at Aducci. "That was you, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was."

"I was sure that I was gonna die. I mean, absolutely certain. I've been in a lot of situations in which I've had close calls, but that day I felt death."

"I know. I saw it in your eyes. That's why I fought so hard for you."

Johnny absorbed Aducci's words. "I know that a lot of things were going on, but the only thing that I remember is hearing those words."

"Well, your partner certainly had his hands full. I don't know how he did it all."

"Roy's never really talked about it. I think that we were both avoiding the subject, but I've wondered what happened."

"I know that it wasn't easy for him. We were all in shock."

"He saved my life."

"Yes, he did. Until the other paramedics got here, he had to do everything by himself. My secretary brought a blanket, but Roy never left your side. He knew exactly what to do for you. I saw God working through him," he added thoughtfully.

Johnny felt his heart pound harder. "I should have bled to death," he said softly.

Aducci took a deep breath. "I don't understand everything that Roy did that day. He spoke to the hospital and hooked IVs to your arms and gave you oxygen, all while knowing that you were very close to dying. He knew what to do for you to save your life."

"The doctors said that I shouldn't have made it." Johnny slowly raised his head to look at Aducci. "I knew that I was gonna die, Roy knew it, everybody knew it, and yet here I am today, talking about it." He shifted on the couch, agitated as the memories and doubts flooded him. And he remembered something else…another gunshot as he lay on the floor.

"Was Laura…did she die…"

Aducci pursed his lips. "She shot herself in the head. There was nothing your partner could do for her."

Johnny stared at him. "I never knew…I never asked. Or if I did, they wouldn't give me a straight answer. I didn't realize it until now. They…they were trying to protect me, I guess." He shook his head. "I just don't understand any of this. Not a damn bit of it. Sorry. It's just so messed up. I mean, it all happened in a church. How could God allow it? Isn't this God's house? Isn't God supposed to watch out for His house? How could He allow a girl with a problem to…to do that in a church? It's wrong! The whole thing is wrong, and I just don't understand it at all."

Aducci waited a moment, then spoke with carefully chosen words. "I don't understand it, either, John. There are many, many things that happen that I don't understand. I see so much unhappiness and death, and I wonder what God is planning. I think that God has a plan that we don't always see or understand. Sometimes I see the plan; sometimes I don't. I think that we have free will to act as we want, and while God knows what we're going to do, He lets us make the decisions. And in the end, I believe that everything fits into God's plan."

"Even my getting shot in a church?" Johnny asked ruefully.

"It's difficult to understand, and we may never see the reasoning behind such events, but I acknowledge my limited understanding. I choose to trust God. I think that you may be acknowledging God's power by your questioning here today. I can help guide you, but in the end it will be your decision. You will accept God's plan, however difficult it may be to understand, or you will not. And that will be your decision, John. Just as your relationship with God will be your decision."

Johnny's head bowed for a moment, then he met Aducci's eyes. "Thanks, pastor." He got to his feet and held out his hand.

Aducci took his hand, then asked, "May we pray together before you go?"

Johnny hesitated, embarrassed. "Okay," he replied, awkwardly lowering his head. Aducci placed his hand on John's shoulder, then offered a brief prayer for Johnny's benefit.

They separated, and Johnny once again shook Aducci's hand. "Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you."

He stood before his open locker, fluctuating between feelings of amusement and confusion. The potato lay on the shelf, several eyes having sprouted in the time that it had spent there. He took the tuber in his hands and studied it, once again seeing an image that took him back to the church.

He laughed, suddenly relieved that he had not mentioned the icon to Pastor Aducci, and as he carried the potato to the kitchen, he whistled.

The End


End file.
